


Munch for Three

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Symbiont Circle [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: BDSM, Gen, Happy Ending, Kink Negotiation, Munch - Freeform, Other, Sadomasochism, no violence, nonsexual kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 20:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11448585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Padmé's desire for a third participant in their scenes takes a step forward.





	Munch for Three

**Author's Note:**

> Because of course Obi-Wan's local Munch meets at Dex's. Where else would it meet?

 

From outside, Dex's Diner looked the same as it always did.

But the instant Obi-Wan stepped foot inside and the door closed behind him, that changed. In the space of one heartbeat, he was home. The Force curled gently through the room, a warmth that ranged from playful to earnest.

Smiling eyes glanced up, and he offered nods to the beings he recognized, as well as the new faces.

Well, new to _him,_ he internally amended. It had been quite some time since he last had the opportunity to be in this area on the right evening. Some of the people he did not know might think _him_ the newcomer.

A man with beautiful olive skin stood, moving to come meet him as he stood by the door, just grateful for the fact that he was here, now, with these people.

“Marev,” Obi-Wan greeted.

Dark eyes sparkled at him as gentle fingers moved up to lightly brush down the Jedi's cheek. “Ben. I'm glad you could make it. The ladies are near the back.”  
Obi-Wan caught his wrist and placed a gentle kiss to his palm.

The smile that lit Marev Kesseyd's face brought just another layer of calm to the current warmth of Obi-Wan's soul.

“I will only be on Coruscant for three days more.”

Marev nodded, looking somewhat disappointed. “I think I'll be able to carve out a lunch or perhaps a breakfast, but I'm afraid things are too tense right now for me to be able to promise you much more than half an hour.”

“I'm sorry for it, but I look forward to a chance to talk with you.”

“And I look forward to hearing about what your Padawan's done now.”

Obi-Wan stifled a groan with a smile. They gripped one another's hands, and then Obi-Wan was moving up the aisle between the counter and tables.

“Hi, Ben.”  
“Good to see you, Ben.”  
“Blue suits you.”

He sent back appropriate responses without pausing, and then a voice at his elbow murmured, “Ben? There's someone I would like you to meet?”  
Obi-Wan turned, found a young Domme he'd mentored for a time. Beside her stood a senior Padawan he recognized from the Temple, dressed in quiet civilian clothes, like himself.

The boy's face went deathly pale and he froze.

Mei Lym frowned at him, then at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan smiled at the terrified Padawan. “Your business is your own. Is it not?” he asked.

The young man gave an unsure nod.

“I take it you already know one another?” Mei asked.

Obi-Wan smiled down into her narrowed almond eyes. “By face only.”

“As I was saying,  _this_ is Ben, the man who trained me for a time. And Ben, this is someone special to me. Idor.”

The Padawan looked even more afraid now.

_Why? Because you used a false name, or because you have found a place of balance with a very skilled young woman who knows what she's doing?_

“You're in good hands,” Obi-Wan offered, his tone nonthreatening to the young man who— given his nervous glances around— he suspected was experiencing his first Munch. “And these are good people.”

Idor tried to relax a little, but his smile was definitely false.

“Mei thinks very highly of you,” Idor somehow managed to stammer out.

“As I think of her.” Obi-Wan gave them both a farewell nod, feeling just a little pride in Mei's steps forward on her own. He found the gaze of Mei's current mentor, a Domme who had been perfecting her art for several decades now, and gave her a smile of respect as well.

The farthest table in the back held his party.

Satine, clothed in a quiet maroon dress, sat watching the room. Beside her, a figure shrouded in a cloak.

Obi-Wan drew out the chair opposite them, the one that would place his back to the room, and sat.

“Hello,” he offered.

Satine made one last glance behind him, a habit he doubted she would ever escape, and then her face melted into soft pleasure. “It's good to see you.”  
“It has been too long,” Obi-Wan agreed. “And even longer for you,” he added, looking to the hiding woman.

Large brown eyes peeked out of the hood at him, and he could sense both potential excitement, and an edge of worry in their owner.

“I wasn't sure you'd come,” Padmé admitted. “You refused last time.”  
“You were fourteen last time,” he reminded. “It was not for me to introduce you to this world.”

Padmé gave a determined nod. “And yet you did, in a round-about sort of way, perhaps, but you're the one who directed me to Satine.”

“I hope that was the correct choice?” Obi-Wan asked. “You seemed too desperate for me to feel comfortable simply offering you a holosite to begin your research. Also: discretion is highly valued by this group, so don't feel you have to keep the hood up unless you so desire.”

Padmé hesitated for a moment, then allowed the fabric to fall back. The last hints of girlhood had matured in her face, easing away the roundness of the child into the adult now present.

“It was the right choice,” Padmé said, voice quiet with conviction. “Though I was frustrated that for those first years she confined my training to research alone.”

Obi-Wan and Satine shared an amused smile.

“And now? How do you feel about your play partnership with her?” Obi-Wan asked.

More of Padmé's discomfort eased away. “It feels like something I've fought for.”

“Was it worth the wait and study?”

“Definitely.”

Obi-Wan felt no surprise whatsoever at that answer.

A light blush spilled across Padmé's cheeks, surprising him.

“I am very nervous right now,” the Senator admitted.

Obi-Wan's expression turned reassuring. “For what reason?”

“I had a terrible crush on you nine years ago. And now you're here to talk about whether you want to... join us.”

“I'm afraid Satine was quite cryptic in her message,” Obi-Wan encouraged, “so some elaboration will be necessary.”

“Wound and death roleplay, as well as some imprisonment roleplay, with light sensation standing in for actual pain.”

Obi-Wan smiled again. “I'm glad you found someone who could offer you that.”

Padmé's blush deepened. “Instead of cornering Jedi Padawans and asking them to hurt me?”

“It wasn't the safest thing you'd done in your life.” Obi-Wan settled back in his chair.

“I didn't know Munches existed back then. It's not like they advertise.”  
Obi-Wan gave a nod. “I'm just grateful you didn't try Qui-Gon.”

“He wasn't wearing the mark of a Dom. I may have been dangerously ignorant, but I was fairly certain that's what you were wearing,” Padmé protested with a mock scowl.

The waitress droid came by to take drink orders, and once the interruption had passed, Padmé leaned forward, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “Did Qui-Gon  _know_ what it meant?”

Now it was Obi-Wan who felt the blush flare across his cheeks. It didn't help that Satine was watching him, highly amused, from beneath long lashes.

“No. And to be honest, my first forays weren't very safe either. The system is not currently designed to keep confused young adults safe. My youthful mistakes aside, what do you know of me?”

Padmé's shoulders relaxed, just a little. “Your specialty is nonsexual kink. You're dominant, not a lifestyler, have been mentored and have been a mentor, you protect ignorant young queens, and you're painfully my type.”

Obi-Wan laughed.  _I like her._ “That's quite the biography.”

“Do you prefer a sub or a slave?”

“I have played with both. How were the two of you thinking of including me? It's not as though Satine needs help.”

Padmé's head came up and she squared her shoulders, looking him in the eye through her blush as she said, “I'm curious about exploring having someone watch us during our scenes.”  
“And you thought of me because...?”  
“I knew I wanted a masculine presence, someone I could trust, preferably someone I'm attracted to, and I wanted them in Jedi robes.”  
Obi-Wan's mouth snapped shut, and he could sense Satine's inward laughter.

_Thank you, darling,_ he thought dryly. No wonder she'd been so cryptic. She wanted to see him try to deal with this live.

“I see.” He hid his half-embarrassed smile with his beard and hand. “And finding a real one is that much better?”  
“Well... if they were going to pretend to be you anyway.”

Another laugh escaped Obi-Wan. “I'm flattered and embarrassed both. Would I be a passive observer, as if I'm not there, or would I have part of the script?”

Padmé and Satine shared a little glance.

Padmé's residual discomfort seemed to drain away.

“I would like for you to watch for the first parts, and then join in later. If I've been tied to a chair, I'd like you to be the one to 'find' and 'rescue' me, just in time for the two of you to hold me as I 'die.'”

Obi-Wan gave a nod. “And my affect?”  
“Comfort and a quiet demanding of me to be brave, while Satine takes either a similar path, or plays the uncontrolled griever. You would be a stranger trying to ease my passing, while Satine is someone who I mean something to.”  
Another nod. “You would like your new partner to be in robes and play a Jedi?”

“Yes.”  
“If this partner were a Jedi, would you desire them to use the Force in any way?”

Padmé considered it. “It's not part of my fantasy. If the Jedi were willing to experiment with that, I would be open to doing so. However, if the Jedi had reservations about using the Force in such a context, I would not feel sorry that was the case. How do you feel about playing a Jedi, with or without the Force?”

“I will have to consider it.” Obi-Wan turned his gaze to Satine. “And you? What do you seek?”

“Padmé's portrayal of pain is compelling. I am open to the idea of a third, but I would prefer not to share our scenes with another Sadist. When considering who to ask, your name was the first to occur to me. The idea of sharing Padmé with you calls to me. I suspect it would offer its own gratification to me, as well as pleasing Padmé.”

Obi-Wan glanced at his chrono, knew his time was up. “I have to be getting back to my Padawan. But I am willing to have another meeting. I will consider the Force question.”

“And what you might want,” Satine prodded.

He smiled at her. “And what I might want.” He let his gaze go back to Padmé's face. “I confess it's a pleasant line of consideration. You have come into your own, Senator, and I am honored you would consider me for this.”

They stood, and Obi-Wan bent low over Padmé's hand, brushing his lips to the back of it. “I shall have questions for you when we meet again.”

“May the Force be with you, Ben.”

“And you, Fair Lady.” He turned to Satine.

She placed her palm against the side of his face and he leaned into the caress.

“How I've missed you,” he murmured, drawing the warmth of her soul deep within his own, to hold it close through the cold missions ahead.

Satine drew his hand to her lips and kissed it with a quiet fervor. “And I you. Come back alive, Obi.”

“To you? Always.” Obi-Wan memorized the love in her eyes, the curves of her face, and then tore himself away.

There were others who needed him.

Some of the visitors had shifted. A few had left, others come in.

Obi-Wan was sorry to see Marev was no longer here, but he promised himself to make contact in the morning and arrange a meeting, even if it was simply to exchange a few words of solidarity.

He ducked his head into the kitchen to give Dex his greetings and to thank him for his hospitality, and then he vanished into the night, returning to the child who needed him.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Negotiation begun. In the context of kink, the term “Negotiation” does not mean “I give you this if you give me that.” It means navigation. Two or more people setting out onto the seas of discovery, needing to plot a course together to traverse it safely and satisfactorily. It requires honesty about expectations, desires, and fantasies. To be honest, if all intimate relationships were approached with a similar commitment to communication and honesty... well, it might not be a bad thing.


End file.
